Ter
by VSSAKJ
Summary: -DISCONTINUED- A collective of my pieces for the LJ community 30Threesomes. All Yami no Bakura x. Seto Kaiba x. Noa Kaiba. Warnings for slight AU, implied shota and, obviously, threesome.
1. Minor

_(A/N: Applies to theme #29 'Minor'. This was my first attempt at writing any kind of threesome; the one contained in these peices will not ever become a 'triangle' so to speak. At this point, it's very vague.)_

"It's just a minor problem!"

When Noa said that, it was usually rather bright and referring to something electronic he was about to go and tinker with. Usually – if he'd been spending most of his day around Seto and was in a bit of a mood, it would be edging more on terse, and usually have a 'Go away and leave me alone so I can fix it' sort of tone to it. He wouldn't outright tell you to leave, but he would ignore you and give very caustic responses if you pressed him with questions. If you were silent, you were quite welcome to stay – that sort of company he didn't mind.

"It's just a minor problem."

When Seto said that, he was already ignoring you and his fingers were probably flying across a keyboard so quickly you couldn't get an impression of what he was typing. Ask a question and you would promptly be told to shut up and get out, because he was _busy_ and needed to _focus_. Even if you were silent, it would usually only be a few minutes before he would ask what the hell you wanted and then order you to leave if it wasn't a satisfactory response – it never was. There was no way you could convince him you needed to be there if he was busy.

Funny, really, when you thought about it; the same phrase, said by brothers that looked nearly like twins (exempting height and hair colour, of course) and yet acted so differently. Noa was far more receptive to human beings than Seto was, gave the impression of actually enjoying their company at times – but Seto's attention was a far greater prize. Pry him away from all devices electronic and work his mood into something decent, and you had a very promising evening on your hands.

"It's just a… minor problem."

When Bakura said it, he wasn't talking about electronics.


	2. The World

_(A/N: Applies to theme #22 'The World'. It's still a bit vague and the characterisation depicted here isn't terribly consistent with the rest.)_

"… Okay, who the hell are you?" Bakura said, sounding unimpressed and looking him over with vague distaste, "You're like a smaller, more obnoxious version of Kaiba."

"_I'm Kaiba_." Noa sniffed huffily, standing quite as straight as he could, "_He's_ masquerading as one."

"_You're dead_." Input Seto sharply, not looking at either of them but continuing to type as if they weren't there at all. Both Bakura and Noa were silent for a moment until Seto finished whatever it was he was doing and closed the laptop computer; Seto then looked directly at Noa and continued along his previous thread, "Besides that small detail, there official _signed_ adoption documents that name me a Kaiba."

"You're not a real one." That was rather pouty, if it had to be described, an argument coming from someone who wouldn't give in even when beaten. Noa's arms were crossed over his chest and he looked prepared to be fairly stubborn.

Bakura took this moment to offer his insight. "If you're dead you hardly qualify as 'real', kid."

Noa strode right over to him and prodded him in the chest hard enough to make him take a step backwards. "That's real."

"I can take that body away, Noa." Seto again, snappish this time. Tired, or merely annoyed with the whole pointless conversation brought on by Bakura's uninvited arrival in his house, who knew, but he wasn't pleased with the ordeal. No, he was going to set down some rules. "Bakura, don't goad him on."

Bakura smirked. "Of course not. The little boy is just as alive as artificial intelligence is. He's quite real, I believe you."

Noa reddened. "You… I'm not manufactured!"

"Noa, leave it alone. He's only trying to rile you." Seto sighed; this was going to land him with a headache, he knew it. "Bakura, you can _leave_."

"Hardly! We've only just barely been acquainted. So what sort of Kaiba model is he, three-point-oh, or something a little more advanced?"

"I'm older than _he_ is." The teal-haired boy muttered darkly; it wasn't properly true, but it certainly wasn't a lie either.

"Oh? Then why are you so short?" Bakura went over and patted Noa on the head, using it to indicate the difference in their heights – the white-haired thief had a good seven inches on him.

Seto spoke again. "He's Gozaburo's."

Silence fell thick and heavy.

Bakura stepped away from Noa, visibly sombered. "I see." He was looking at Seto now, staring intently, nigh on examining him. He knew, _knew_ things about Gozaburo and how much hatred there was between he and his adopted son. Son, hah. What a poor word to use. Seto was hardly Gozaburo's son – Seto was his own person, and quite unafraid to tell Bakura so. Usually, that made Bakura smirk, but today. He could see the stiffness in how Seto sat, caught that his fist sat clenched at his side. He spoke again. "Why?"

"Mokuba." A one-word response to a one-word question. Seto knew Bakura could take that and understand.

Noa, however, could not. "What about Mokuba?" He'd only had this body for about two days now, and since then he'd met Seto's younger brother. Quite the endearing kid, really, but it was hard to explain that in some way, Noa was his oldest brother and in many, many others he was not.

Seto sighed and rose from his seat on the couch. "Bakura, you've got five minutes." He then left the room.

Bewildered, words tumbled out of Noa's mouth, his face reddening more as he stumbled on, "Does he mean… that you… but he…"

Bakura smirked and gave him a small pat on the back of the shoulder, "Welcome to reality, kid."


	3. The Hermit

_(A/N: Applies to theme #10 'The Hermit'. First person POV from Bakura, but again, it isn't properly consistent with the whole thing.)_

It's hard to make Noa breathless.

Harder than Seto. I know what makes Seto tick. The sexual part's easy, because it's the same as with almost anyone and nearly the same as Seth was. Outside of that, I can trick him into holding his breath by talking about Egypt. He doesn't realise it, but sometimes I'll find something that rings with his vague memories (souls retain images, after all, so even if his lifetime doesn't remember it, the soul does) and he'll hold his breath to listen. Of course, I have to pick and choose randomly until he stops typing – that's when I know for sure I've got him.

Seto's really not that complicated after a while. Get under his skin once and you're there for a good while. Then you can learn about him, even if he's not so keen on the idea. He really doesn't realise when he's telling you or showing you something he'd normally not – the computer is helpful in that respect. Granted, I have to literally drag him away from it sometimes, but that's alright.

But Noa's different.

It's odd. I never really considered there being another… version, for lack of better words, of Seto. Noa's… different. I won't lie and say I haven't approached him. He just shrugs it off – he's better at that than Seto is. Seto gets riled faster than Noa. I don't _know_ how to rile Noa. He seems unshakeable. Then again, he and I don't talk well. He shuts down the conversation _fast_. Maybe I'm not trying the right topics.

… Alright, so I know that. But how am I supposed to accept that this kid suddenly pops out of no where, saying he's older than Seto and was _dead_ for a while? That just doesn't _work_ without magic – but Noa's as adamant as Seto about not believing in that sort of thing.

I don't know much of anything about Noa. Seto doesn't really like talking about him, and I've already covered Noa's social habits. But the fact that Noa doesn't _like_ talking doesn't stop me from trying. I'd… like to learn about him.

I've tried to kiss him before. He just turns to one side, and even when I insist he just… he won't react. It's queer. It's like he's a _machine_. I'm sure I've accused Seto of being that way before, but Noa makes him seem humane. He's cold. _Freezing_.

I don't understand, but I'm hardly going to quit on him. There's no better way to make Seto jealous, I know it. And Noa might just be an interesting sort of challenge to overcome.


	4. Death

_(A/N: Applies to theme #14 'Death'. The basis of this goes to callitcruel on LJ -- she once wrote me a piece wherein Bakura compared himself quite eloquently to death. This is the beginning of a mini story arc/triad, if you will, and the next two follow this one in sequence.)_

"He's compared himself to Death before, you realise."

Noa looked up, slightly startled at having the silence broken by such an unusual – and unspecific – phrase. "Pardon?" He asked tentatively.

"Bakura."

So detailed. "Oh." Noa fell silent. After several minutes, when Seto offered no more in the way of explanation, he queried, "Why?"

Seto started to reply too quickly, exasperation evident in his tone. "I don't," – he paused, evaluating his choice of words – "care."

Noa could see through that easily enough. Seto didn't have a clue as to why. Well, that was fine. Now, choosing whether or not to pursue that particular matter or to attempt to puzzle this out on his own. It was unlikely that he could, upon reflection, as he'd hardly known Bakura long enough and had only heard some small notions of his peculiarity. Then again, there was no reason for Seto to be interested in discussing it with him.

Well, he could try. "What does he say?"

Seto had already put Noa from his mind and glanced at him with the look of one who feels they are eternally being interrupted with trivialities. "Pardon?"

"What does Bakura say, comparing himself to Death?" Noa clarified, attempting to sound more critical than curious.

"I don't have time for this." Seto muttered, continuing to type and refusing to look at Noa again.

"Seto. You're the one who knows. Tell me." He didn't say please, but it certainly sounded like he might have.

Seto sighed loudly and shoved his chair away from the desk. He stood and walked over to the window, giving his fiercest glare to the out of doors. They didn't seem to be terribly impressed, but Noa was willing to bet that wasn't the reason Seto laid an arm against the glass and rested his forehead on it, closing his eyes. He wasn't trembling, not really – he looked tired, and it had happened very suddenly. "He talks about… being pale. How white is the colour of death. How he's _seen_ Death before."

Was that all? Noa scoffed, "If that's all –"

"You don't get it." Seto snapped, whirling around, "You haven't heard him." The next was not something he'd normally lay claim to, but in this situation, he really didn't care. "You don't _know_ him."

Noa was taken aback. "… Then why say something? Why even mention it?"

Seto smirked. "You love him, don't you?"

Noa felt himself flush. It was impossible to hide that, but still he tried to deny what it implied, "N-no, I –"

"Forget it." Seto cut him off, shaking his head slightly as he went back over to his computer. "Just leave it."

And that left Noa shaky, nervous, and utterly confused.


	5. Temperance

_(A/N: Applies to theme #15 'Temperance'. There's some minor non-con in here.)_

All this waiting around was starting to get on Yami no Bakura's nerves. Seto was wont to say "Just _wait_!" without specifying a time, which meant he could be occupied anywhere from fifteen minutes to over an hour – the latter being the case now. In fact, it seemed it had been so long Bakura felt he might go so far as to declare himself _bored_, a rare and often somewhat dangerous occurrence.

And he was hardly alone too, which made the boredom all the more frustrating. The teal-haired Kaiba brother known as Noa had been here when he'd arrived and had paid him scant amounts of attention since then. A glance towards his person as it was hauled through the window, but nothing else. Bakura smirked as he remembered the first time he'd done that in Noa's presence, surprising the teenager into a litany of confused and demanding questions. Noa had quickly adapted to this peculiarity, though, a fact Bakura found rather unfair – now Noa was capable of wholly ignoring him, which led to Noa being as boring as counting stippling on the ceiling (not that Bakura had any idea what that was like).

… Well, that meant he'd best do something to make things more interesting. Aggravating Noa sounded like a good start. Possibly even scaring him a little. Oh yes, good idea.

Bakura collected himself from the lounging position he'd adopted in a thickly-stuffed chair and stood, walking across the room to plunk himself down on the couch Noa had claimed as his own. He waited until the teal-haired boy cast him a dark look before posing his first question, "What are you doing?"

"Working." Came the short reply, its giver probably very unaware of how much like Seto he sounded.

"What on?"

"Something."

"_What_?" Bakura pressed stubbornly, leaning over to stare at the screen, half upon Noa's shoulder.

Noa sighed, fidgeting a little under his weight. "It's complicated. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"No." The response was bland, Noa's attention entirely on typing once more.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Brat." Bakura spat out snappishly, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms over his chest to think for a moment. That didn't seem a course on which he could shake Noa. What scared the kid? What made him nervous, uncomfortable? Bakura remembered pestering Seto for more details about him several times, and something that he'd never been told was… "How did you die?"

Immediately, he got a reaction; Noa's shoulders stiffened and his fingers froze up on the keys. His voice was quiet when he replied, "I don't remember."

A cruel smirk crawled across Bakura's face, slow and mocking. "I think you do." He leaned closer, over Noa's shoulder again, this time peering at his face instead of the computer screen.

Noa squirmed away until he was right up against the arm of the couch, as far away from Bakura as he could get without leaving his seat. His reply was shaky, "I _don't_."

Bakura's voice was a low whisper. "Do I have to tell you how they got me first?"

Noa's face paled, his hands quivering even though he kept them clasped tightly together. His next words were muttered, like he didn't want Bakura to hear them, "That's what Seto said… you've actually been…"

"Dead, yes." Bakura replied, the smirk stretching into a wide grin. This was proving to be more fun than expected. "The Pharaoh," his voice twisted into a hate-filled snarl with that word, "had me killed."

Noa stood up very suddenly, declaring, "You're lying."

"You think so? You want to try me? Ask me what it's like. Ask what it feels like, having your eyes closed and your arms tied and knowing they're raising that blade above your neck, prepared to swing it down and slice your –"

"Shut up!" Noa snapped, his whole body shaking. "I-I… I'm leaving." He turned towards the door of the room and started towards it, but Bakura snaked up from the couch and seized him by the shoulder.

"No, you're not."

"Let me go!" Noa yelled, wrenching around to free himself from the taller boy and fixing him with a furious glare before starting to stumble backwards.

Bakura grabbed him again, this time by both shoulders, and twisted him to change his direction before shoving him against the wall, demanding in a low, harsh tone, "Are you going to tell me how you died?"

"… You're really serious, aren't you?"

"Are you going to tell me?" Bakura repeated the question, moving his hands from on Noa's shoulders to the wall, preferring not to exert too much pressure against the smaller boy's frame. For a second he tried to consider when this started being serious and stopped being a simple time-waster, then quickly discarded the idea. It didn't matter, really.

Noa's lips tightened. "It's none of your business." The damned boy was obviously just as stubborn as Seto, perhaps even more so. Bakura wondered absently if Noa practiced switching tacks or if the stubbornness just rose and fell naturally.

He also wondered why he found himself genuinely wanting a proper answer, but that was along the lines of pondering why this was serious and thus was discarded in the same manner. His response was severe. "I want it to be my business."

Noa swallowed, edging just as far back as he could against the wall, pressing his hands against Bakura's chest when the other boy leaned in closer. He may as well have burst into tears for all the good it did – the other's movement was undeterred. Now made more than a little uncomfortable by his nearness, – very near in fact, thought Noa, as he realised with a start that he could count the creases in Bakura's lips if he were so inclined – Noa felt his cheeks flush slightly.

And then Bakura's hand was on his cheek, testing that warmth, a smirk on his lips. "Are you nervous, Noa?"

The teal-haired boy shivered; the way Bakura said his name made it feel like someone had slid an ice cube down his spine. He didn't respond.

Bakura leaned in closer, sliding his fingers across Noa's lips, his face scant inches from the shorter boy's. "Am I making you nervous?"

Noa opened his mouth slightly to respond and found that, instead of being able to speak, his mouth was meeting with Bakura's – hard. A muffled squeak of protest rose in his throat, swallowed quickly by the contact between the two. He found his knees shaking, not sagging but threatening to give out on him. What the _hell_ was Bakura doing? Not that it was bad but… he felt more colour rising to his cheeks and let his arms relax slightly, so that rather than pushing Bakura back they were just resting against his chest.

The door to the room slamming shut seemed to snap them both out of it; Noa twisted his face away, terrified at being caught doing _that_, and Bakura pulled back three feet in an instant, turning and leaving the room in a flurry of quick movement. Which left Noa leaning against the wall for support, gasping, confused and very much alone.


	6. Devil

_(A/N: Applies to theme #16 'Devil'. The conclusion of my little storyline-plot-thing.)_

"Do you understand?"

Bakura did not reply, glaring stonily at the other boy.

"Bakura, _do you understand_?" Seto repeated fiercely, emphasizing the second half of the sentence. He met Bakura's brown eyes with a frigid glare of his own, his arms akimbo.

The white-haired boy sighed, spreading his hands palms-out to either side of him with a shrug. "I don't see why you're in such a snit over this."

Truth be told, neither did Seto, but he wasn't about to admit that. Instead, he snapped, "You don't touch him, all right?"

"Why not?" Bakura's challenge was immediate.

"Because."

"Oh no, don't you _dare_ try to play that game with me Seto," Bakura stalked over to him, prodding a finger sharply into his chest, "I'm not _stupid_ enough to take your word as law without some sort of explanation. So let me tell you, if you don't come up with a damn good reason for me to keep away from him, I'm going to tell you why it makes you so angry and you are _not_ going to like it."

"Try me." Seto snarled darkly, shoving Bakura backwards forcefully so he ended up several steps away from Seto.

"You're jealous." A smirk flit across Bakura's face as Seto's cheeks reddened; his point had been easily won, "And besides that, you like him too, as more than just your 'brother'." Normally, he would have spoken the last word tentatively, but instead he gave it a connotation that suggested it was neither a definite nor an absolute term.

Seto was shaking now and by the state of his clenched fists, it was probably in anger. "You –"

Bakura held up a hand to stop his tirade, growling, "That's what I've seen. It's obvious, so don't try to deny its truth."

"So what about you, then?" Seto countered brashly, "Why did _you_ kiss him?"

Now Bakura's cheeks flushed very slightly pink, and he did not make to respond.

"So it isn't only me then, is it?" Seto stated, securing his own point firmly and sounding as though he thought this argument was quite finished.

"… He's too much like you." Bakura muttered softly, breaking from Seto's gaze to stare idly at the sheets of paper scattered on his desk.

Seto bristled, still close enough to anger to take immediate offense at that. "Are you accusing me of narcissism?"

Bakura sighed. "Oh, _of course_. You've always held yourself to standards you don't believe anyone else can meet, haven't you?"

Seto was silent.

"That isn't the point, though." Bakura went on quietly, taking a sheet of paper from the desk and beginning to fold it in half.

"Then what is?" The question sounded dangerous coming from Seto's mouth, like Bakura was edging into territory where he was not the least bit welcome and that Seto wouldn't hesitate to beat him out of it if necessary.

The white-haired boy continued on regardless, undeterred by Seto's hostility, "Don't you find it the least bit _odd_ that an almost seventeen-year-old soul trapped in a twelve-year-old body drives its owner to habits so much like yours?"

Seto had to think about that for a moment. Then, "… No, not really."

"Why not?"

"I built him."

"His body Seto, you never touched his soul. You couldn't have." Bakura's tone took on one similar of a person lecturing a small child; don't touch the fire honey, it's hot and it will burn you.

"So?"

"He loves you, Seto."

There had definitely been a very miserable note to that solemn declaration; unbidden, Seto's words were gentle, "You don't sound particularly pleased about that."

"I'm _not_." Bakura snapped curtly; then he paused. "But you needed to know."

"… I could tell." Seto's admittance was quiet, like he'd have preferred to bury it in the recesses of his mind and never think of it ever again.

"How?" Bakura's surprise was quite possibly caused by the fact that Seto had fought him off tooth and nail for nearly a year before truly understanding how he felt – or rather, accepting how he felt. At times, the thief still couldn't figure out what was really going on in the young man's mind.

"He acts a bit like you did."

"Oh?"

"Usually around me, when you're not here. We argue the same way you and I used to."

Bakura smirked a little and, feeling that the level of hostility in the conversation had dropped significantly, made for a tease, "You mean before you realized that you were being thick and that I really was right?"

"No, I mean before I decided that you're clinically insane but decent enough in bed to keep around." Bitterness leaked into Seto's tone, but the small, private smile on his face betrayed his words.

In normal channels, this would seem the perfect moment to apologise. In Bakura's mind, there was nothing better to do but to spice it up some more – it certainly wouldn't do to get bored again. "Insane, maybe, but I know what I'm doing. Someday I'll be sleeping with _both_ of you." He was allowed a triumphant smirk before Seto hurled a paperweight at him and he, cackling wildly, turned to flee from the room.


	7. Hanged Man

_(A/N: Applies to theme #13 'Hanged Man'. Here we witness the beginning of a new 'mini-series'. This one isn't mutually exclusive of any of the other pieces or the other triad, but between each of them something shifts just a little. I believe, at this point, that it's all been forward/progressive movement. There's quite a bit of language in this one.)_

"It's not healthy and you know it, Seto." Bakura stated gravely, fixing the taller boy with a firm glare. The door closed firmly to discourage interruption, they stood across from one another in Seto's home office. The room was dark; the curtains were drawn and, outside, the sun was already more than halfway set. Most of their conversations seemed to take place at this time of day.

Seto was unmoved. "He's old enough to be responsible for his own well-being. He certainly insists on pressing how he's older than I am often enough."

"You know he's just uncomfortable with the situation."

"No, I don't." Seto bristled, snappishly specific, "I could assume that much but it certainly doesn't excuse his attitude."

Bakura sighed; this was ridiculous. It seemed that any time Noa came up in conversation between the two of them (and granted it was usually his fault, but that was hardly important), there was a fight about something. "You're being unreasonable." He accused, trying to keep his tone level.

"So?"

… Right. Scrap the idea of trying to keep this polite. "For fuck's sake Seto, he's been _dead_ for half his life! For all he says, he's nothing but a mature eight-year-old. Cut him some god-damn slack." He didn't know where the angry curse words were coming from, nor where the stalwart defense of the teal-haired Kaiba originated. He just knew it was there and refused to be kept silent.

Seto, still cool as frost, returned that with, "He doesn't seem to want any."

"To hell with what he's letting _you_ see!" Bakura snapped, clenching his fists, "He's trying to impress you!"

Now some of that familiar annoyance crept back into Seto's tone, colouring it with dark fire, "And when did _you_ get such insight into his mind, hm?"

"Since always." Bakura couldn't keep his next words from being mocking, "It's obvious, Seto, when one doesn't keep their head shoved firmly up their _ass_."

Seto's reply could've sliced diamonds. "… _Bakura_."

Bakura sighed again, tired of this fight even though it had hardly been going on for a long time. "Just shut up."

Seto ignored that, going on as if Bakura hadn't spoken, "Why do you always get so riled up about him?" Implied was the fact that Noa didn't really _matter_ and he wasn't Bakura's _concern_ and that he should just leave it alone.

"I said shut up, Seto."

"No." As stubborn as ever, of course.

"Fine." Bakura turned to leave; leave Seto for an hour, maybe two, and he'd settle. Bakura wasn't sure if he would, but taking the time was better than staying here and possibly getting himself literally thrown out. Seto had threatened – and nearly done so – enough times that he could believe it.

"Fine." Seto paused, and in that split-second moment Bakura knew without looking that he'd see a smirk on his face, "Then he can just starve."

Even the knowledge that he was being purposely goaded couldn't restrain Bakura's reaction. He whipped around and seized Seto's shoulders, half-throwing him backwards onto the wall next to the window. He couldn't help the snarl that broke out low from his throat. "You're an _idiot_!"

Seto was undisturbed, demanding in a deceptively calm tone (the smirk on his face, still there, just quiet, that meant he was up to something), "Why is that?"

"He forgets Seto, he forgets to eat! The dead require and thus take no sustenance. Six years… it's not a long time, but goddamn it's long enough to forget _that_!"

Cruelty etched into every small portion of the expression on his face, Seto answered with, "And you know that so well because you were dead, is that right?"

Bakura blinked once before dropping his arms limply to his sides, looking downcast. His next words, hollow but with a sharp wedge of strength to them, were bitter, "If I hadn't waited three thousand fucking years for you, I'd wonder a lot more seriously why the hell I put up with you."

Seto was blunter with his thoughts. "You're bloody fucking insane."

"You're an _idiot_!" Bakura repeated harshly, snapping like a vulture at a dead body, "You brought him back to life, so why is it that it's so impossible to believe that I did the same?!"

"Because _you_ insist on claiming to have taken residence in a 'host's' body and simply use _that_ like it's your own!"

The laugh that filled the room was terrifyingly cold. Bakura's eyes were nearly slits as he glared at Seto, testing, "You mean to say that you _honestly_ think I'm Bakura Ryou?"

At that intensity, Seto balked for a moment, but apparently steeled himself. "I believe that you're some kind of sick, twisted fuck with MPD or something similar."

"Then we'll see how you deal with my oh-so-lovely host right now. He's bound to love this."

Seto seized his arm, gripped with a sudden panic, "Bakura, you wouldn't –"

A new and drastically different pair of brown eyes blinked at him, utterly confused, "Kaiba?"

"Shit." Seto swore, and then shook Ryou by the arm, snarling, "Stop playing games like this Bakura!"

The white-haired teenager winced, shying away from Seto as much as he could within that rough grip. His words were too honest to be ignored. "Kaiba, stop it please! I don't know what you mean!"

Seto released Ryou's arm now, almost flinging it away as he turned to glare at the curtains on the window. This… didn't make sense. It didn't. There was something wrong. He knew Bakura could be an actor, but how… ? He couldn't change his mannerisms, the impression he gave off when he walked into a room. This was the Bakura Ryou he'd known when he still attended school frequently, the one who kept to himself and made others uncomfortable with the secret way he smiled. Bakura… the Bakura he knew now came to him in the night and demanded his company, smiling in a way that promised only _his_ moods would decide how things went.

Impossible. Just… bloody impossible. He turned to look at Ryou now, who stood in the same spot he'd been seconds before, rubbing the bruises appearing on his arm. Seto knew it was his fingers that'd caused that, but he would not apologise. He refused. Bakura didn't deserve it – and it was Bakura, it had to be, no matter what the apparent differences. He refused to accept that. Angrily, he put his hands on Ryou's shoulders and pulled him close, hissing, "Don't try to deceive me." And then he kissed Ryou, hard and half- biting down on his lips.

Ryou squirmed, twisting in an attempt to get back or away or something. And when Seto finally did let him back for a chance to breathe, the taller teenager drew a fist and punched him in the side of the face. Ryou staggered from the hit, not falling but putting his hands against the wall to keep some balance. When he could right himself, he put two fingers to his cheek, gently touching where he could feel a bruise forming. The fingers then travelled slowly down his face, tracing the line of blood dripping off his chin. He said nothing, standing quite still.

Seto also said nothing, standing upright and quivering slightly with fury. All lies, damn, it had to be. This falsity was impermissible.

It was Ryou's calm voice that made him change his mind. "Is there anything else you'd like to try, to see if I'm him?"

His insides froze with those words, but he replied evenly enough, "Get out."


End file.
